PA German Dialect

Es Neinuhr Schtick

October 19, 2000

Ihr liewe Leit:

Heit welle mer en Gedicht aafange ass der Lee L. Grumbine (1858-1904) mol gschriwwe hot. Es heesst “’S Lattwarrick Koche.”

Ach! Die scheene Meed so hibsch un siess;
Die yunge Kalls mit dappiche Fiess;
Sie sammle all in der groosse Kich,
‘S iss en lustichi Zeit fer mich un dich.

‘S iss die liewe, scheene Schpotyaahrs Zeit,
Die Luft is gfillt mit Hallichkeit,
Mer schnauft die Gsundheitsgrefde ei,
Die Luft dreibt’s Blut wie schtarriger Wei.

Die Scheier iss voll bis nuff ins Dach,
Mit Hoi un Schtroh un allerhand Sach,
Uff yeder Seit’m Dreschdenn Floor,
‘S iss all gschtoppt voll vun Dor zu Dor.

Die Fruchtkammer grext mit schwerem Gwicht,
Vun Weetze un Korn un reiche Fricht,
Un’s Welschkann leit wie’n goldener Barrig,
Die Aerds Belohnungs Bauers Warrick.

Ach! Wie so prachtvoll, du liewer Harrebscht,
Mit lustiche Farrewe die gans Welt farrebscht!
Die Landschafts Aussichde, wie buntfleckich!
Wie Yoseps Rock iss alles ao scheckich!

‘S Laab iss geel un brau un rot,
“S drauert aa net, doch ball kummt doer Dot!
Der Froscht hot’s Summers Gebleit genumme,
Un moolt uff die Meed ihre Backe die Blumme.

Er iss en Kinschtler gschickt un raar,
Sei Warrick sin fei un wunnerbaar,
Er farrebt un moolt un weebt un schpielt,
Es macht frisch Gfiehl in alles was fiehlt.

Die Aerd is brau, un der Himmel iss bloh,
Un alles Lewendiches iss munder un froh.
‘S Graas in der Wiss iss weiss mit Reife,
Die Ebbel sin dick uff rode Heife.

Mit Fesser un Kiwwel noch der Seidermiehl,
‘S geht frieh an die Arrewet im Marrigekiehl;
Heit iss der Daag fer Lattwarrick Koche,
Der hallischschde Dag in manniche Woche.

Darrich die Miehl warre aerscht zammegemaahle
Die Ebbel wie sie kumme, sammt Grutze un Schaale,
Aus der Press ins Fass wie’n Schtrom laaft’s nei,
Die brau siess Brieh vum Ebbelwei.

Un nau hen mer der Seider. Nau misse mer yuscht noch die Ebbel schnitzel un noh kenne mer aafange der Lattwarrick koche.

Macht’s gut,
Der Alt Professer

Dear people:

Today we want to begin a poem that Lee L. Grumbine (1858-1904) once wrote. It is called “Cooking Apple Butter.”

Oh1 the beautiful girls so pretty and sweet;
The young fellows with clumsy feet;
They gather all in the big kitchen,
It is a happy time for me and you.

It is the dear, beautiful fall time,
The air is filled with joy,
One breathes in healthy powers,
The air drives the blood like strong wine.

The barn is full up to the roof
With hay and straw and all sorts of things,
On both sides of the threshing floor
It’s all stuffed full from (barn) door to door.

The grain bin groans with its heavy weight,
From wheat and rye and rich grains,
And the corn lies like a golden mountain,
The earth’s reward for a farmer’s work.

Oh! How magnificent, you dear fall,
With happy colors you color the whole world!
The landscape views, how colorfully dappled!
Like Joseph’s coat everything is spotted!

The foliage is yellow and brown and red,
It doesn’t mourn, but death comes soon!
The frost has taken summer’s bloom,
And draws on the girls’ cheeks the flowers.

It is an artist, skillful and rare,
Its work is fine and wonderful,
It colors and draws and weaves and plays,
It makes fresh feelings in everything that feels.

The earth is brown, and the sky is blue,
And everything alive is healthy and happy.
The grass in the meadow is white with frost,
The apples are thick on red heaps.

With barrels and pails (we go) to the cider mill.
We start early to work in the morning coolness;
Today is the day for cooking apple butter,
The most glorious day in many a week.

Through the mill are first ground together
The apples as they come, together with cores and skins;
Out of the press into the barrel like a stream it runs in,
The brown sweet liquid of the apple wine (juice).

And now we have the cider. Then we just have to cut up the apples and then we can begin to cook the apple butter.

Take care,
The Old Professor

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updated 3-15-2007 paf